Page 32 of Finding Love in Micklewick Bay

Her stomach was churning violently when something caught the corner of her eye. She glanced down to see the necklace had somehow become snagged on her dress and was hanging there. A tidal wave of relief washed over her. ‘Oh, thank goodness!’

With trembling hands, she unhooked it, relieved to see no damage had been done. Taking a deep breath, she gazed down at the images looking back at her from the locket. Her heart leapt when she spotted the initialsJPdeGabove a family crest. It was an almost identical image of the one on Pim’s arm, only here the “J” and the “P” had switched places. ‘What could this mean?’ Stella said, her voice a whisper.

In the other side of the locket was the photograph of a striking young man with blond hair. He looked uncannily familiar, but she couldn’t think where from.

Stella’s mind was in turmoil as it dawned on her that she’d discovered something significant and she was convinced it had something to do with her father. She set the locket down on the dressing table before taking photographs of each image using her phone. Being careful to return everything to its original position, she closed the jewellery box.

She lifted the photograph she’d knocked over in her haste and went to set it back down when she noticed the back had come loose a little. She couldn’t explain what it was that drove her to do what she did next, other than she felt an overriding compulsion. She slid off the back of the frame and set it to one side, before removing the piece of card that was holding the photo in place. It revealed what appeared to be a carefully folded letter. Stella removed the note and set the frame down, instinctively knowing she’d happened upon something of great significance.

With her heart racing she opened the letter out, her eyes running over the words.

The colour drained from her face. ‘Oh my God!’ She clapped her hand over her mouth as a mix of emotions bombarded her body. She could scarcely believe what she was reading.

NINETEEN

Stella quickly put the photo frame back together, all fingers and thumbs – minus the letter; she was going to hang on to that for now – then stood it back in its position on the dressing table. That done, she hurried out of her mum’s bedroom, barely registering the masculine dressing gown hanging next to her mother’s on the back of the door.

As she drove away, the guilt of snooping around her mother’s bedroom was at loggerheads with the fact that her mum had been keeping secrets from her. ‘How could she?’ Stella cried, hitting the steering wheel as tears scorched their way down her cheeks. It took a lot to make Stella cry. In fact, she couldn’t remember the last time she’d shed a tear, but now the urge to release the rising tide of hurt and deceit was too overwhelming, too great to hold back and she gave in to great wracking sobs.

It didn’t take long for anger to become the dominant emotion, pushing its way through hurt, confusion and innumerable others that were swirling around inside her. What right had her mum to keep this from her for so long? And as for the link to Pim, well, she didn’t even know where to start thinking about that. What she’d found had only added to the list of questions Stella had about her father. But how the heck wasshe going to broach this with her mother? She was going to have to confront her at some point. She couldn’t leave something as significant as this unspoken, couldn’t leave it to burn away in her gut as her anger intensified.

Stella snatched the tears away from her eyes. She couldn’t go back to her apartment right now, she didn’t want to risk Alex seeing her like this. And besides, her head was too full of what she’d just learnt to simply switch off and hold any kind of normal conversation with him. She wouldn’t want him to think she’d gone off him again.

Heading out of town, Stella drove until she arrived at the long road that led to the moors, continuing along until she came to a suitable place to park her car, too consumed by stress to notice the stunning scenery that usually captivated her. She indicated right and slowed down.

The car that had been behind her for much of her journey – tailgating her at times – swerved around her and shot off, the driver revving the engine aggressively. If she didn’t know better, she’d have thought whoever it was had been following her. She watched as it reached the crest of the hill, almost taking off it was travelling so fast.

Pulling up, sending a handful of the free-roaming sheep scattering, Stella stilled the engine and sat back in her seat. She took a moment, gazing out at the miles upon miles of undulating moorland, her mind going to the letter and what she’d found at her mother’s.

She pulled out her phone and enlarged the photos she’d taken of the locket, confirming to herself that the initials were almost identical to those of Pim’s tattoo. She scrutinized the photo of the young man, noting the laughter in his eyes, the unsettlingly familiar expression. Where, exactly had she’d last seen that face. Realisation slowly dawned and she pulled down the visor, taking a moment before she looked in the mirror. Shegasped, pressing her hand to her mouth. There, gazing back at her were those self-same eyes, the resemblance so strong, it was uncanny.

When she was finally able to pull her gaze away from the photo, Stella set her phone down and turned to the letter she’d tucked into her handbag. The words on the page leaving her in no doubt she’d finally discovered the identity of her father. Johan de Groote. The only problem was, how could she track him down and get in contact with him, if that’s what she decided to do? And what the heck was she going to say to her mum?

TWENTY

As she drove home, Stella arrived at the uncomfortable conclusion that she was going to have to be honest with her mother. There was no other way she could tackle the conversation or tell her she’d discovered the identity of her father. And it was a conversation she was keen to have sooner rather than later. There was something else niggling her too, and it was her mum telling her she’d had no reason to settle in Micklewick Bay other than she thought it looked pretty. If that was the case, how had Pim found his way there? It was too much of a coincidence that he’d just turned up by chance. And what was the connection between them, other than the obvious initials? They had to be related, of that she was certain. Stella had a lot of questions and she was determined her mum wasn’t going to wriggle out of answering them this time.

Parking up in her garage, she checked her reflection in the mirror on the back of the visor. She wanted to make sure all traces of her tears had gone. The pale blue eyes looking back at her triggering a reminder of the young man in the photo. Satisfied she’d removed all tearstains, she climbed out of her car and made a dash for the front entrance of her apartment block. Much as she’d love nothing more than to see Alex, she feltnow still wasn’t the right time, so she hurried up the stairs and rushed to unlock her door, glad to be in the quiet sanctuary of her home.

Massaging her temples, she headed over to the balcony doors and threw them open, though she had no intention of sitting out there right now, the refreshing, salty air that flooded in was more than welcome. She’d make a coffee first, then start her internet trawl; work would have to wait.

Now she had a name, she felt buoyed by optimism that she’d have some success in the search for her father. That thought made her heart jump.

As she was waiting for her cup to fill, the aroma of coffee beans swirling around her nose, her eyes landed on the clutch of letters she’d collected from her pigeonhole earlier that day. She scooped them up and quickly checked through them. There were a couple of circulars – they went straight into the recycling bin – a magazine from one of her favourite clothing companies and a letter in handwriting she didn’t recognise.

She ripped the envelope open and unfolded the single piece of paper it contained. Her stomach clenching as the words, written in large, uppercase letters leapt out at her.

I KNOW WHERE YOU LIVE

She stared at the paper, her chest heaving, her breathing short. Her mind raced through a mental list of who would send her such a thing. Gavin Dixon and Vaughan Elliott jumped out as the most likely candidates. Dixon would be trying to scare her off pursuing the case against his son, the threat – it couldn’t be construed as anything other – to push her into advising the CPS to drop it. Vaughan Elliott would no doubt be smarting about their spat yesterday morning. But would he really stoop to doingsomething like this? she wondered. Actually, yes, she thought, he would, or at least get someone to deliver the note on his behalf. His reputation for being unscrupulous had mushroomed over the last year.

The next thing to cross her mind was how whoever it was knew where she lived? She hadn’t lived there long. She must have been followed. That thought sent a prickle of anxiety running up her spine. If Vaughan Elliott was responsible, then he was risking being disbarred, not that she could see that bothering him much. He was so slippery, he’d have convinced himself that he’d get away with it; blame someone else. If it was Gavin Dixon, he risked a prison sentence. He probably hadn’t even thought that far ahead, and had just assumed she’d bow down to his threats, just as his daughter-in-law and certain members of the jury in his son’s trial had no doubt done.

She snatched up the envelope again, checking the postmark to see there wasn’t even a stamp. ‘How did—’ Anxiety squeezed in her chest. Of course, the back entrance door! Whoever it was must have sneaked in when it was left open, found the pigeonhole with her name on and posted the note. A rash of goosebumps broke out over her skin. ‘Flipping Andrea!’ The fact that someone who bore her ill will had been in her apartment building didn’t sit easily with her.

Her mind went to the car that had been driving so closely behind her earlier that day. Could the two be linked? she wondered, her concerns building. She really hoped not; she had enough to deal with without having to worry about someone who had an axe to grind. She’d have to call chambers, bring them up-to-speed with the threats Gavin Dixon had made to her before the trial was adjourned. She’d also have to contact the CPS as well as the police officer in the case. And now she’d become potentially personally involved like this, she’d have to step away from the Dixon case; someone else would have to take over thebrief. One thing she knew for certain, she wouldn’t be sorry to see the back of that family.

She released a juddery sigh, the thought crossing her mind that she’d need to find out who to contact to access the CCTV to the premises. All entranceways to the property were covered by cameras which offered her a grain of reassurance that whoever had sneaked in would be captured on film.

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